A Whole Lotta Nothing
by TiramiSue84
Summary: My take on The Twilight 25 - Round 9. A combination of unrelated drabbles, flash fiction and one-shots written within three months time, all circling around a main character. All genres, all pairings. AH/AU, Canon/OOC. Everything goes, everything is possible. Rated M to be on the safe side. Not much else to add, except maybe, enjoy!
1. Exposed

**Another year, another challenge! This is my take on The Twilight 25 - Round 9. **

**The central character I chose is Edward. **

**You can expect everything and nothing out of this. lol **

**Ratings may vary, but will mostly be on M side (if not for anything else, then for the swearing!)**

**Last time around, completing the challenge was a last-minute kinda deal for me since I still had a gazillion prompts to write for but only a few days left. Here's to hoping that I will do better this year!**

**Without further ado, here's chapter one.**

**Hope you guys enjoy!**

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><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five **

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 9. Exposed **

**Main Character: Edward/Bella**

**Rating: M**

**Word Count: 492**

**.**

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><p>It's my own fault, of course.<p>

I should have known better than to trust her out of the blue. I mean, it's not like we've ever been more than fleeting friends. A smile and a wave in passing in the hallway here, comparing notes in history class there, you know?

I don't even know why I told her. I just did.

I was just sitting in the small coffee shop across from the police station, working on an English essay while waiting for my dad's shift to end. Hot chocolate in hand, she appeared at the loveseat I liked to claim for my own and plopped down beside me. As far as I could remember, that was the first time we talked about more than just the teachers and their urge to shove too many assignments at once down our throats. We chatted about our families and friends and about what we'd like to do once our time in high school finally came to an end.

We talked about our peers, too.

And boys.

I mean, that's what girls do, right?

She was so honest about her boyfriend and how her parents didn't like him all that much.

It was all so private and intimate; it felt as if we were actual friends, and I wanted to return the favor.

So I told her.

She'd been so funny and sweet, I couldn't have possibly known it was all an act.

She played me, turned my words against me and morphed them.

Now I'm twice as embarrassed. I let her warm smiles and heartfelt laughter lure me into safety, and my mortification is the price I have to pay.

Last week no one minded me much; today they're all staring at me.

Everybody knows, and, judging from the looks cast my way during lunch, so does _he_.

Keeping my head down and my shoulders drawn up, I walk from class to class, wishing for this day to end already.

And then he's there. Leaning against my locker with his arms crossed, the stern look doing nothing to corrupt his handsome face.

"So, we're dating now?"

"That's not what I said." My voice is small and trembles.

"What did you say then?"

"That I liked you. That I wished you were my boyfriend. That's all. The rest...that was all her."

He chuckles, but it's fake and wrong. "You never said anything about hot making-out sessions in the janitor's closet or the countless handjobs under the table in bio?" He leans in closer, so close that his breath hits the side of my neck. "What about the many times we fucked each others brains out? All her, making shit up?"

His crudeness hurts, and I pull away, leaving him and his asshole-behavior behind.

"Swan! C'mon. I didn't mean...I was just kidding. It was stupid, okay? Bella! I'm sorry!"

"Fuck you, Cullen!"

Tears prickle my eyes as I enter my classroom and close the door behind me.

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><p><strong>That was fun :) <strong>

**Thanks go out to bigblueboat, who's not only my beta, but also all kinds of awesome! **


	2. Insidious

**This chapter is unbeta'd.**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five - Round 9 **

**the twilight 25dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 15. Insidious**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word count: 100**

**.**

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><p>I tell her that I love her.<p>

I don't.

I tell her she's the only one for me.

She's not.

I tell her we'll have forever.

We won't.

Every single word I tell her is a lie.

Every single kiss and caress is empty and fake.

Every single time she looks at me with those love-filled eyes, I want to cringe.

There are only two reasons I keep up this farce.

One being her money.

The other being her husband.

Garrett.

The ring leader.

My lover.

There's only one thing standing in the way of our happy ending.

Her life.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! <strong>

**-Sue **


	3. Waffle

**Thanks go out to hummingbirdFF and BellaMed for reading this over and fixing my errors! Go check out their entries! **

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five - Round 9<strong>

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 24. Waffle**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word count: 1186**

**.**

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><p>She'd gotten them in some yard sale. The very first thing she bought for our very first apartment together, as she liked to remind me.<p>

Three dessert plates; one decorated with the picture of a tower of pancakes, one with a stack of French Toast, the last one with a pile of waffles. All with fruit garnish on the side and a plethora of powdered sugar on top. All drenched in syrup.

All utterly tacky and tawdry.

Each plate uglier than the previous one.

I'd been in the middle of packing my books into boxes, when she came round my dorm room, all excited as she proudly presented her loot to me. All cute and adorable.

Her, I mean.

I had hated those kitschy porcelain things on sight, but wisely kept my mouth shut. Even when she told me she had paid ten dollars for those ugly things, I kept the groaning and headshaking internal.

But despite my dislike, I couldn't bring myself to throw them out, for she still loved those silly plates to bits. Even now, with two of them chipped at the lip, and the colors fading more and more on all of them, she refused to let them go.

There sure would be hell to pay if she came back to find them gone.

She's always been so good at kicking my butt to keep me on my toes.

And I let her because I love her.

That wife of mine.

All her bad habits and little quirks included.

Butt-ugly plates and all.

Small hands tugging on my pant leg bring me back to the present.

Looking down, I'm met with bright green eyes and a head of wild dark brown hair.

"Daddy. Shoes," Katie says, as she thrusts her tiny pair of red chucks into my knee cap.

"C'mere, princess." Picking her up, I sit her down on the kitchen counter and get to work, putting the shoes on her feet and tying them up twice.

I feel her trace the little buttons on my shirt. "We visit mommy now?"

"In a bit, my sweet. Daddy just needs to wrap grandpa's breakfast and then put on some shoes himself." I kiss her nose. "Which one should we use today?"

She twists to the side and stretches her little body forward as far as she can. Reaching for the middle plate in the wooden cupboard on the wall next to us. "Dis one."

"Waffles for the waffles, huh? Good pick."

Doing all the cooking now took some getting used to. I'm not exactly good, knowing only the basics for the most part. Half the time it's take-out, unless we're invited to eat over at my parents' house.

The exception being breakfast. That's the easiest one. Cereals or yogurt and cut-up fruit during the week, bacon and eggs or something made from batter on weekends.

It's fine.

I manage.

I try.

Because I have to.

Covering this morning's leftover waffles with a sheet of aluminium foil, I make quick work of finishing getting dressed.

We arrive at the hospital a little later than we normally do. Traffic was a pain and to top it off, I had difficulty finding a spot to park in.

Katie's hand enveloped in mine, we make our way through brightly-lit corridors, passing doctors, nurses, patients and visitors alike, until we reach our destination.

ICU

Eleven weeks.

It's been eleven weeks since that bastard decided to take his car for a ride completely shit-faced. Since he made one stupid decision too many, one that forced my wife's car down the road and right into a row of trees.

Smashed.

Broken and close to death.

Since she closed her eyes and herself off from everything around her.

A slumber she has yet to wake up from again.

At least that's what I told my three-year-old daughter̆̄—that her mommy was so very tired, she decided to take a very long nap in a special bed. That it's just bad luck that we always seem to miss her being awake.

It's when she asks about the machines and her mommy's suddenly flat belly that I'm at a loss for what to tell her.

It's still so hard for me to grasp what happened; and why. How am I supposed to explain all of that to a small child? And my heart–already so bruised it aches incessantly–cracks even further, deeper, every single time I let my mind go there for just a fraction of a second.

Every single day, every single time I see her laying there so pale and small, it knocks all air right out of my lungs. And the possibility that that, seeing here like this, may be the very last impression I will have of her, all this uncertainty and not-knowing...it kills me.

She's my love, my life. I need her.

We need her.

As has become tradition, I let Katie curl up against Bella's hip for a bit after I take her shoes off, while I sit in the chair by her bed and hold her hand.

We remain just like that for a little while, silent and absorbing the faint presence of the one we miss the most. When it's time to go, I place Katie's latest drawing and Charlie's plate on a side table. Whenever my father-in-law can't make it to breakfast or lunch, we bring him a plate, to pick up during his own daily visit. Another tradition that established itself ever since that dreadful night. We try visiting her together as much as we can, or at least coordinate our visits so that we can meet up. But with him working odd hours and my own job, we tend to get to the hospital in shifts.

It's a bit of relief, knowing that someone's there to keep my Bella company most of the day.

Hours later, after a trip to the park and lunch with my parents, I settle my baby girl down for her own much-needed nap in their guestroom.

On my way back into the living room, I try my hardest not to take a look at the many photos hanging from walls, or standing framed in cabinets and on the mantelpiece.

For some reason, today feels worse than yesterday did, and I just know I can't take it.

It's too much, and I'm too close to the edge of breaking down. As drained as I feel, I wouldn't make it out of another episode unscathed.

And then my phone rings, and I'm thankful for that momentary distraction.

The display announces the caller to be Charlie, so I pick up right away.

I don't even get a greeting in.

"Edward! Edward, you need to come back down to the hospital. It's Bella. She…she– Edward, son, she woke up. Just now. God, I–"

_She woke up_.

He says more; I hear the words between his sniffles and heavy breathing, but nothing really registers. My head is swimming, too many thoughts running rampant in my mind. But they all fade to nothing, for there's one thought overshadowing everything else.

My Bella is awake.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! :) <strong>


	4. Pristine

**This chapter is unbeta'd.**

* * *

><p>.<p>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 19. Pristine**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word count: 100**

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><p>Flawless makeup.<p>

Red-tinted lips, perfect and sweet.

Like her smile.

Never a hair out of place.

No foul mood, no harsh words.

Always polite and demure.

She plays them well.

And they're so willing to buy it.

Through rose-colored glasses they look, but don't see.

Otherwise, they'd realize that her shapely legs are now bare.

That sometime around lunch, her nylon tights went missing.

Because I ripped them from her body.

In her office.

Before bending her over the table and taking her from behind.

Talking dirty.

Just how she likes it.

The perks of being the boss's personal assistant.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading! :)<strong>


	5. Mist

**Huge thanks go out to Bigblueboat for reading this over for me and fixing my mistakes! I couldn't do this without her! :)**

* * *

><p>.<p>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 18. Mist**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word count: 1,208**

**.**

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><p>My eyes flutter open, and instantly, I'm awake.<p>

It's never been this easy. Usually, I'm one of those people who pull the blanket over their head in a desperate, fruitless attempt to tune out the rude blaring of the alarm clock. And I have to reset the snooze function at least three times before finally crawling out of bed because nine meager minutes are never enough.

I'm also notorious for taking complete advantage of Sundays and sleeping until noon.

That was before, though.

Now, my body is so attuned to this new routine that I don't even need to set my alarm anymore.

Six a.m.

Pulling the duvet from my naked form, my body shivers; gooseflesh all over.

But it's not from the cool October air that settled in overnight.

It's anticipation.

Barefoot on wooden panels, I saunter across the room to the bedroom window.

Obscured by a thick sheet of fog that covers the street below and the surrounding area like a veil, the still sleep-drunk world appears to be unreal. A stretch of brick stone driveway, a broad line of asphalt, two streetlamps, and two neighboring houses right across is all I can see clearly. Everything beyond is a sea of vague shapes and blurry lines.

Bleak and eerie, it's the perfect backdrop for any horror movie. Something could be lurking outside, just waiting for the right moment to pounce while we're cut off from the rest of the universe. It's spooky and mysterious. Full of dark little secrets.

Like me.

Though I'm more of an accidental sinner, so to speak. That I was at the right place at the right time, entirely coincidental.

And now it's like an obsession, or an addiction, I just can't quit.

And any minute now, I will get my next fix.

How my body craves it.

As if sensing my need—my craving—he emerges from the fog then. Slowing his stride, he comes to a halt next to the lamppost that stands tall on the sidewalk right where our properties meet.

Tall, lean, toned; bending and stretching the defined muscles in his flawless body. Right in my line of sight.

Stepping closer, my breasts brush against the window pane; the chilled glass teases my erect nipples to harden even further. Fingertips follow his outlines out there and my own in here.

He never looks up.

Three quick jumps; billowing clouds of breath swirl into the morning air and he's done. A few steps and he disappears inside his own home.

I don't waste any precious time. Spinning on my heel, I walk out of my bedroom, across the small hallway and into my mostly unused guestroom.

The one with the perfect view.

I'm right on time, too.

Somewhere along the short way, he's already discarded his black beanie and thick hoodie. The thermal sweater he wears underneath is pulled from his gloriously defined chest just as he steps into his bedroom. Towing off his sneakers and pulling off his socks, leaving both carelessly on the floor next to what must be his closet.

Now barefoot and wearing nothing more than his running pants, he leaves the room again.

Such a tease.

Minutes tick by and I'm at a loss for what to do. He's never interrupted his little show like this, always sticking to the same routine.

This waiting game, it drives me mad. What if he had me missing out on the highlight?

But then he's there again, phone by his ear and water bottle in hand. I was quick enough to retreat out of his sight, before he could catch me standing here, staring. My back pressed against solid stone, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

Taking a deep breath and counting to fifteen, I carefully sneak back out of the shadow. Right away, my eyes fall on his tanned and toned back. His pants hang low on his hips; one hand scratching the skin on his neck, right underneath the golden-brown hairline, while the other still holds his phone to his ear.

Again, my fingertips slide along smooth glass, wishing—imagining—it was even smoother skin, instead. Moving from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, down the vertebrae and up again, along the lines and curves of his upper arms.

If only he would turn around.

Quick breaths hitting the pane, fogging it up, messing with my sight. A swipe of my palm and the condensation is gone; a flick of his wrist and his phone lands on his bed. He's moved, standing so that he's all profile. Long fingers loosen a string, then move skillfully underneath thick fabric; hands glide down—his and mine.

He bends; I caress. He's completely bare, and so am I. My body buzzes as his saunters away; long legs and a firm ass. How desperately I want to get my hands on him. Licking and nipping and caressing and sucking at every last inch of him. My fingers in his hair, tugging; my lips on his neck, kissing.

And more.

I want his hot breath to tickle the small spot right underneath my ear, while he tells me bluntly about all the naughty things he wants to do to me. I want his lips and tongue and teeth to kiss and lick and nibble on my neck, my breast, my thighs, and my core. I want to feel his strong arms around me. I want him to tug and to pull and push and to thrust.

I want his hands all over me, in me.

I want him on me and in me, and any other way I can have him.

I just want _him_.

Over and over again.

My fingers between my legs, rubbing, circling, dipping in. Faster. Harder.

I'm close.

Almost there.

The scream that pushes past my lips is loud and high-pitched. But it's not from finally falling over the edge, but from the sudden, unexpected, ringing of my doorbell. Its echo hangs in the air like the sounds of your mother's porcelain cookie jar as it shatters into a million pieces on the kitchen floor, after it slipped from your hands as you tried to secretly sneak a treat.

My hand is still stuck in the cookie jar, so to speak.

The bell rings again, and I stumble and trip over heavy carpet and wooden panels. Stubbed toe and elbow, I frantically open the first few drawers on my dresser and pull out a handful from each. The tank top is too small, the yoga pants hang too loose, but they will have to do.

Taking two steps down at a time, I make it to the door just as my unannounced visitor starts hammering his knuckles against it from the outside.

Sweaty, out of breath and hair a mess, I pull it open.

A bouquet of flowers is thrust into my arms. There's a card attached with my name on it. Before my mouth has the chance to fall open, the delivery guy has already turned and left.

Unfolding the little card, my heart comes to a stand-still, then accelerates into overdrive.

_Saw you standing at the window again. _

_Tit for tat is only fair, don't you think?_

_Waiting for you by my bedroom window. _

–_E. Cullen (your new neighbor)_

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><p><strong>Hope you guys enjoyed it. :)<strong>

**Thanks so much for reading!**

**-Sue**


	6. Banned

**Squishy-hugs go out to Bigblueboat for red-penning all my extra words! :) **

* * *

><p>.<p>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 03. Banned**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word count: 100**

**.**

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><p>"Please, just let me explain."<p>

"What for, Edward? What would it change?"

"Just give me a chance."

"How many more chances do you need? You always do this. You screw up spectacularly, causing damage and hurting people as you go, then come up with some feigned excuse to justify your actions."

"I know I've made mistakes, that I've hurt and disappointed you. I swear to God… I wish I could undo it all."

"You can't."

"I'm trying to fix things. My life."

"Good luck with that. Until you've managed that, I don't want you anywhere near this family. Goodbye."

"Dad…"

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! <strong>

**-Sue**


	7. Ancient

**Thanks go out to Bigblueboat for pointing all my mistakes, and helping me fix them. Or, at the least, lets me watch while she fixes them! :)**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 01. Ancient**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: K**

**Word count: 100**

**.**

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><p>The game's as old as time itself.<p>

Two participants.

Her and me.

One looks.

The other looks away.

See-sawing back and forth.

Intentionally coincidental.

Trying not to be too obvious.

A strand of hair twirled around a finger.

A wink.

A shy smile.

Reciprocated.

She sucks on her straw.

A decision.

My leap of faith.

Shaky words scribbled on a paper napkin.

A waiter turned postman.

For extra tip.

She unfolds; reads.

She bites her lip.

My eyes back on my phone.

Pretending.

Fingers tapping.

Knee bouncing.

Seconds tick away.

Minutes, too.

Then.

Finally.

A seat being taken.

"Hi."

"Hello."

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><p>Thanks so much for reading!<p>

-Sue


	8. Forgotten

**This chapter is unbeta'd, but I have to thank Hummingbirdff for helping making sense of my word vomit! :) If you haven't already, go check out her own TT25 collection! **

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 12. Forgotten**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: T**

**Word count: 390**

**.**

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><p>It's been almost two centuries since my heart ceased beating, yet I'm still at a complete loss as to what to feel when visiting this desolate place.<p>

Facing this marble countenance, so cold and solid, the irony is not lost on me.

If asked, I couldn't even tell you why I still come here anymore. It's pointless and macabre; perverse even, in a way.

Still, it's something that we do; a sick family tradition, if you will. Every few decades or so, one of us would feel nostalgic enough to visit the place that marks the origin of their own winding road toward eternal existence. To reminisce about all that happened and who we used to be, and to mourn everything that could have been but never was.

As if we need a tangible reminder. As if it would be possible for us to forget anything. Once known in this post-life, even the most insignificant bits and pieces of a moment long gone will stick with us until the day we crumble into dust.

It's a blessing as much as it is a curse. As much as there are memories you desperately want to cling to, there are just as many you'd like to bury into the deepest pit imaginable, never to be thought of again. With our kind, these memories—whether they are pleasant or painful—can either anchor us enough as to not completely lose our essence in this new existence, or further foment the fuel in this ever-raging fire we wake up to and continue to carry within.

Even more disturbing and disruptive than forgetting about yourself and leaving all you were and those you knew and loved behind, is the inevitable acceptance that people will leave you behind. And you are forced to realize that with every last breath that's being taken, a bit of you dies, too. Your beliefs and achievements, your looks and personality—all forgotten over time.

You'll fade into nothing but a name and a couple of dates engraved on stone. Years pass, and suddenly, there will be no more visitors to bring flowers or light a candle, no tears from mourners whispering into the silence of an early morning that they miss you. No more goodbyes and promises to meet again.

Eventually, it will be like you never existed at all.

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading! :) <strong>

**-Sue**


	9. Hunger

**Squishy-hugs go out to Bigblueboat for being and awesome beta and basically kicking my butt into writing this one. And for being all kinds of fabulous! Go check out her (informal) take on the challenge! **

* * *

><p>.<p>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 13. Hunger**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: T**

**Word count: 1,576**

**.**

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><p>—-<p>

The wet soles of my sneakers squeak over the polished linoleum floor as I hurry across it. Peeking through the small windows inserted into the thick wood of the double doors, I can still see a few people mingling in the aisles, chatting and greeting another. Sighing in relief, happy that I wasn't as late as I feared after all, I pull the door knob down and sneak in, letting the heavy door fall close behind me.

It's then that an elderly lady enters the festively decorated stage, the gray of her flowing skirt and blouse matches the color of her hair that's been pulled back into a tight bun. It's been decades since I'd last seen her, yet I recognize that stern and eternally unamused face of hers immediately. Bless that old hag for giving second graders nightmares and making them cry.

Just her presence up there is enough to make grown-ass adults cease their chattering and scramble to their seats.

Quickly scanning the crowd, but failing to find the familiar faces of my family, I take the next best seat that appears vacant. The old hag's face turns even more sour as she forces words like "delighted" and "joyful" through her thin lips.

I try to fight the snicker but it's useless, and unfortunately for me, it doesn't go unnoticed either.

"Not a big fan of elementary school recitals, are you?"

Turning my head, I'm sure my jaw drops open upon seeing her. She's gorgeous, with a mane of thick dark curls framing her beautiful face, big brown eyes, and an impish smirk on her lips.

"What? Oh no, its not that. I love these recitals. They're great," I sputter.

She bites down on her full bottom lip, and I'm mentally kicking myself for every nonsensical syllable that made that's made its way out without my given consent.

"Uh, what I tried to say was that every recital or play with my niece in it pretty much rocks in my books."

The smile she grants is bright and infectious. "Your niece? Now that's precious. What's her name?"

Little feet scurry on stage then, and my gaze is pulled up front, searching for the sweetest face of them all. A piano starts playing the first notes of _You Are My Sunshine_, and I spot her right as the kids start singing the lyrics.

"You see that girl with the pigtails? Front row. The one in the pink dress that looks like a tutu? That's Lily, my brother's oldest."

It's her mouth that falls open this time. "Lily McCarty?"

"Yeah, that's her. You met her, I take it?"

Then she starts laughing, and it's sweet and heartfelt. "That little heartbreaker you call your niece over there is the girl my son has the biggest crush on. Head over heals, I swear it. Can't say I blame him, she really is adorable. Her–your whole family is, actually." She's grinning into her hand now, shaking her head minutely, then she lets it slide down her throat to rest over her collarbone. "Yeah, I've met all of them a few times now. Emmett is the hoot. Wait, are you a Cullen or a McCarty?"

I groan at the thought of her having met the boisterous, slightly embarrassing and crazy mess that is my family.

Wait, did she say she has a son? But she looks so young, no older than twenty-two, twenty-five tops!

"Cullen. Definitely. Those McCartys are their own brand of crazy." I'm chuckling at my own joke, remembering the Thanksgiving incident in which Emmett and his father ended up wrestling over the last slice of pecan pie in my parents' backyard. "I'm Edward, by the way. Rosalie's younger and favorite brother."

"Oh, you're the photographer!" The excitement doesn't last long and is replaced by confusion. "Wait, I'm pretty sure Rosalie said she only had one brother."

"Yep. All me."

"Photographer, favorite brother and so humble, too! The full package, I see," she jokes, rolling her eyes. "I'm Bella. Nice to meet you."

Accepting the hand she offers me, I marvel at the feeling of her soft skin and how perfectly her hand fits engulfed in mine. "Nice to meet you, too."

The kids start their own rendition of some annoying pop song, I just know I will have it stuck in my head for the next week, yet I'm all smiles. I try to focus on the stage, but as much as I try, I can't stop looking back at her. Judging from the glimpses I catch out of my periphery, so is she.

Lily is so precious up there, stumbling over a few words as she sings along with her classmates, swinging her little body from side to side as she does. My eyes fall on the boy standing next to her. He's half a head shorter than she is with a mop of dark hair, looking all proper with his white button-up shirt and black tie. When the song ends, he sends a wide, toothy smile my way and waves wildly. For a second there, I'm convinced it's actually intended for me and I'm mid-wave when I realize, it was really meant for Bella.

"Is that him? Your son, I mean."

Another smile for me, all proud and adorable this time. "Yes, that's my little man, Miles." She grabs for her purse and pulls her phone out. I watch as she snaps a few pictures and a video or two. The latter are mainly for her father, who lives a few states over and couldn't make it all the way here as she tells me once the phone is stashed away again. We chat a little more, both dividing our attention between the little choir up front and each other.

I notice that there is no mention of a boyfriend or husband nor is there anyone with her. Which doesn't have to mean anything, really, but I'm too much of a chicken-shit to ask. I can't deny that I like her though. She's sweet and funny, a bit quirky too, as she always seems to be moving her hands around when she speaks. And just so fucking beautiful. It's silly how infatuated I am after knowing her a mere fifteen minutes, but I can't help it. It's like, there's a pull I can't fight…

"What was that?"

"Hmm? Sorry, I was...lost in my own head."

"Yeah, I can tell. I asked you the same questions about five times. I was about to pinch you to get your attention."

"You did? Again, I'm sorry. What do ya want to know?!

"Well, I was curious whether your family wanted to meet up at Dino's afterward for pizza." She fiddles with the sleeve of her cream cardigan. "It's become a bit of a tradition for us all, you know, but since your whole family seems to have come together today, I wondered if you had other plans."

"To be perfectly honest with you, I have no idea. Thanks to missing my flight and slow traffic, I only got here a minute before the show started. I haven't spoken to any of them since before leaving Denver." I chuckle, thinking back to that chain of semi-disasters. "Hell, I don't even know where they're sitting!"

She scrunches up her face. "Sounds awful."

"It was! And now that you've mentioned food, I'm also reminded that I haven't eaten anything since before reaching the airport." As to emphasize my case, my stomach starts growling loudly and right between two songs.

We're both snickering at this—me, only partly out of amusement and mainly due to embarrassment—earning a few turned heads.

"Actually, I grabbed a couple of hot dogs on my way to the airport, but they were so nasty, I couldn't manage more than a bite." Another rumbling comes from my midsection, and this time, she pokes it.

Grabbing her purse once more, she pulls out a little blue container. "There's not much left, but I always bring a few snacks for Miles and his friends. All yours, if you want." Pulling the lid off, she reveals a handful of carrot sticks and three muffin halves. "Apple cinnamon. I hope that's okay."

"Okay? Bella, you're a godsend."

There's only one song left, and by the time it's over, all the snacks are gone. Loud applause and cheering erupts from all sides of the crowd as the little ones take their bows.

"Are you going to stay here for the holidays?" Bella asks as we get up from our seats and step over to the side, so as not to stand on the way of the other guests.

"Oh yeah, definitely. Probably until after New Year's, maybe even longer." Theoretically, I was off until the beginning of February, but there's always a chance a new job comes in that requires me to leave earlier.

"That's nice." She smiles up at me. "So, if you guys won't join the pizza party tonight, we might still have a chance to meet again? Over coffee, maybe?"

Hooking a finger around one of hers, I give it a little tug. "I was working up the courage to ask you the same. Are you free tomorrow?"

Her nodding her head in agreement is accompanied by the yelling from my brother-in-law, informing me—us that we're all going out for pizza.

"Wow. I guess that's settled, then. Are we still on for coffee tomorrow?"

"It's a date."

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><p><strong>Say cheese! ;) <strong>

**Thanks so much for reading, you guys!**

**-Sue**


	10. Animalistic

**Big thanks go out to Bigblueboat for being fab and red-penning my words! :) **

* * *

><p>.<p>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 03. Animalistic**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: T**

**Word count: 375**

**.**

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><p>I've always prided myself with my self-control. To walk around and live among humans like it was nothing, blending in to keep up the charade, is not the easiest of tasks for someone like me. Perpetually being surrounded by temptation, but always resisting, took some getting used to. But with time and an alternative diet, my family and I acquired the restraint needed. By masquerading who we really are and mingling with the living, pretending to be just like them and treating ourselves to the luxury of a quasi-normal life, we're able to hold on to that last quench of humanity within us.<p>

For me, it's also to make peace with my fate, and on the improbable chance that my soul is still intact and that something like fate exists, my penance.

An attempt to earn some brownie points with the universe, so to speak.

That was before all my good intentions turned to shit, of course.

It was just another bleak and mundane day in the never-ending string of dull days, when within the fraction of a second, all my carefully laid out plans turned void and invalid.

She stumbled into my world only to set it on fire, burning everything to ashes with the blink of an eye. All my precautions, everything I believed in, set alight in the inferno of her presence. She was a siren, luring me into my demise with her enticing countenance, summoning me and what lurked within the deepest shadows of my body to step forward willingly. The most beautiful nightmare custom tailored and all for me. She's the monster I never believed in, but always feared.

I'm intrigued; I'm repulsed. I want to pounce as much as I want to run and hide. But her blood...it sings for me, calls for me to have a taste. Her heartbeat drums in my ears as if it were my own if I still had one. Her life essence rushes through her veins undisturbed, challenging the beast I managed to keep dormant for decades.

He wants her, craves her, lusts for her.

She couldn't have known that coming here, that setting foot in this dreary town, would amount to daring the Devil himself to a bet she cannot win.

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><p>Thank you guys so much for reading!<p>

-Sue x


	11. Covert

**Squishy-hugs for Bigblueboat for being beta, pre-reader, go-to rant person AND overall fabulous! ;)**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 05. Covert**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: T**

**Word count: 480**

**.**

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><p>"Studying went well?" Charlie asks as he cuts another piece from his steak and brings the fork up to his lips.<p>

Being mid-drink, I humm in reply around the water-filled glass between my lips.

"You kids are making good progress on the project then?"

Fingers travel up my thigh, over my free hand that rests there, sneakily interlacing with mine. "We got a lot done today, Chief. Found some nice graphics to use for the presentation, too. Compared to some other groups in class, we're still a bit behind though since it's only the two of us." Our clasped hands are being moved up along the inside of my thigh. "We'll probably have to get a few more study-dates in then we ought to finish it, if that's okay with you, sir."

Oblivious, my dad nods in approval and continues to eat.

If he hadn't been so focused on filling his empty stomach, he'd probably notice the flushed cheeks and the fact that both Edward and I were awkwardly using only our forks.

Just by looking a little more closely into our living room, he'd find that there were neither notebooks or pens strewn across the floor like there usually would nor were there laptops and textbooks to be found on the coffee table. And that, in fact, both our backpacks are still laying in the entry by the door, untouched ever since we dropped them there.

Edward and I usually know to be more careful than that.

Even coming off from a long shift and all empty-bellied, my father is usually more observant and in constant cop mode. Especially where boys hanging around with his only daughter of any kind are concerned, and free of supervision no less. Even long before we got together and really were nothing more than study-buddies, he'd had to face my dad's scrutiny and interrogations on a regular basis. It took weeks of flawless behavior on both our parts and a few parental chats to trust the town's good doctor's son enough to us be.

Funnily enough, it was around the same time Edward became my boyfriend and we started spending half our study time fooling around.

His finger follows the seam line of my jeans, adding pressure and sneaking further down as it meets the apex of my thighs. A sigh threatens to escape me, so I'm quick to swallow it down with another long gulp of water.

It's a good thing Charlie is unaware of what's going on under the table, and the most fortunate and welcome coincidence to picked today of all days to play ignorant. Spitting rage for my boyfriend and the prospect of having to finish high school in an all-girls Catholic boarding school for me would be the prize of him finding out about what exactly went down on his favorite recliner only a couple of hours ago.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading, guys! Hope you enjoyed! :)<strong>

**Fourteen more to go! **

**-Sue **


	12. Fabricate

**Squishy hugs go out to Bigblueboat and Dream_Catch_Me for being betas, pre-readers and all around fabulous! Thank you, girls! :) **

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 10. Fabricate**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word count: 1440**

**.**

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><p>The click of the door closing behind me echoed through the hallway that leads to the open living area, travelling over the stone-tiled floor leading to the kitchen and fading slowly.<p>

It seemed like no one was here, but I saw her car parked in front when I arrived, and toe-ing off my shoes to store them in the shoe cabinet—as is habit in this house—I find her favorite pair of boots sitting neatly on the bottom shelf.

"Babe?"

After a quick stroll along the first floor, I make my way upstairs, passing the bedroom reserved for guests and my brother's office. All was quiet and still; empty rooms behind closed doors. Leaving the second floor for the third, I spot her little hideout right away. At the end of the hallway, in the only room in this damned big-ass house with the door wide open, she sits cross-legged on the carpeted floor.

Her long hair pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head, earphones in her ears, and fiddling with the fine brush she holds in her hands, she stares off into space. Spotting the collection of paints next to her and taking a closer look at her surroundings, my steps falter. Dressing table, matching crib...and a sharp pain shoots through my chest.

As if sensing me, she turns her head before I even set foot into the nursery, offering me a small smile and mouthing hi. Squatting down behind her, I pull at the cord from her iPod so that the earphones come out before wrapping my arms around her.

"You're early." Covering my interlocked hands with one of her own, she leans back into me.

"Hmm." My lips find her neck, placing kisses there. "Work was slow, so I called it a day. Promised Em to help with the rest of the furniture, but he's running late."

Following her gaze, I see the faint gray outlines on the soft peach-colored wall. "You okay?" I had feared this little project being tough on her. Though we both wanted a baby, and to finally start our own little family, us not having been able to so far has hit her a lot harder than me.

Her chest rises and falls under my clasped hands several times, before she finally answers. "I want to be. I was when I got here and hung the curtains, and then again when I was drawing the motifs. But as soon as I was done and took it all in… I just couldn't. I kept thinking how this should be us decorating our nursery and what changes I'd make if it was, picturing how it would look finished." My hold on her tightens as her voice starts to break. "I'm so happy for Rose and Em, really, I am. And I want to do this for them. It's just… Why can't this be us?"

With my finger under her chin, I draw her face closer to mine and kiss her lips gently, once, twice. "It will be us one day. Things were just too hectic these past two years, what with you finishing school and then your mama getting ill. Everything's much calmer now. The doctors said you're perfectly fine, remember?"

As she pecks my lips, I slide our hands lower down her flat belly. "And who knows, maybe we already have something tiny hiding in there."

"That was so fucking cheesy." she says, smiling against my lips.

Admittedly, my words were pretty cheesy, but to have that heavy weight lifted from our shoulders— even if it's just for a little while—I'd recite every corny line out there just to have her love-filled eyes and bright smile rewarding me/being my reward.

"You love it." Letting myself fall to the side, we both end up laughing on the floor.

In one swift move, she pushes me on my back and straddles my lap. "I really do." Her lips find their way back to mine; my hands move to her hips as hers unbutton my shirt. And just like that, the mood between shifts yet again. Her hips roll and grind over my groin, making me hard.

"As much as I love you both, there's absolutely no baby-making in my baby's bedroom."

Mid-motion, the both of us freeze instantly.

Well, shit.

Standing there, with her arms crossed over her very protruding belly and a very unimpressed look on her face, is my sister-in-law. "This is where the baby lives once here, not the place where the baby is created."

"Yeah, if I know you and Em at all, that would be the wall by the front door."

A smile crosses her face. "Maybe. But, do you really want to know where your brother and I did what in this house? I can safely say nothing happened here, hence the location of the crib. However, the dining table and basically every surface in the kitchen are another story."

I can feel my face scrunching up in disgust.

"That's what I thought. Now, I will waddle back down to the kitchen and order dinner. Fifteen minutes, let's say. I don't care what you do in the guestroom—so long as the sheets land in the washer afterward—but there's absolutely no sexing going on in this room. At all.. And when I return with drinks, I want to see paintbrushes, not skin, got that?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bella and I answer at once, sounding like two chastised children caught being naughty. Which we were, I guess.

Our gazes locked, we listen for Rosalie's retreating steps before simultaneously bursting out snickering. "Well, that wasn't embarrassing at all.

Burying her face in my neck, her quiet laughter vibrates against my body."Imagine her walking in on us five minutes later."

"Oh hell!"

"C'mon, we better get to work." She pushes off of me, and I groan, missing her and the feel of her body on mine, already.

"Yeah, just… give me a minute."

"The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can get home and finish this without interruption," she sing-songs, nudging my thigh with her toes as she does.

"All right, all right." Moaning, I scramble to my feet and readjust myself. "You know, we could always take Rose up on that offer."

"What, so she can tattletale to Emmett, and for him to never-ever letting us live that down? Do you really want a repeat of those torturous six weeks after he caught us in your parents bathroom? All the bad innuendos and puns? No, thank you."

"Not all of them were bad, some were actually pretty funny."

"Oh really, how about I remind your brother of that incident next time my parents will attend a family dinner? Just to see how funny you think it is when my father stares you down."

My smile and boner are gone in an instant. "Right. Okay, point taken. What do you need me to do?"

Smiling smugly, she thrusts a brush and a tube of yellow paint into my hands. "Make sure to stay within the lines."

As much as the laughing and making out offered a nice and much needed distraction from what happened before, I can't help but think back at her words as we bring Rose's creation to life.

Leaning in closer, I brush a few stray hairs that had fallen lose from the bun behind her ear. "What do you have in mind? For our nursery, I mean."

Stepping into my arms and up on her tip toes, she wraps her arms around my neck. "I like gender neutral colors, like, a pale yellow or green, maybe. I always liked the idea of having a rocker, right by the window. And, I don't know if I ever showed you, but there's this ancient rocking horse in my dad's basement that's been in the family for a while—I'd want that in the room, too. Pretty sure it needs some work and a new paint job, though."

Cupping her sweet face with my free hand, I press my lips against her forehead. "Sounds lovely." I hadn't really put much thought into the potential look of our own nursery before, but I was instantly fond of her suggestions.

"Say, how do you feel about bears?"

"Bears?"

"Hmm. Earlier I thought they'd make for a cute theme, but there are just so many possibilities, so if you want to make it somethings else— "

"I'm sure we can make that happen. More like Paddington or our buddy Winnie over here?"

"Guys! Just so you know, I'm coming in now! Your asses better be covered!"

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading, you guys! <strong>

**-Sue **


	13. Desecrate

**Squishy-hugs go out to Bigblueboat because of ALL the reasons! :) Go and check out her (unofficial) takes on the prompts! **

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><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 07. Desecrate**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word count: 100**

**.**

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><p>"Are we really doing this?" Her hot breath tickles my skin, as she pants against my neck.<p>

My hands glide from her breasts down her ribcage, over the curves of her hips and ass and lower, sneaking under her skirt. "You telling me you don't want to?"

"Oh, I want. But... here?"

Capturing her lips with my own, I swallow the gasp she emits as my fingers dip under the thin fabric of her panties and between her folds. "It's not like we've never fucked in a bathroom before."

"This particular bathroom is in a church, though!"

"All the better."

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading and all the positive feedback I've received, you guys! You rock! :) <strong>

**-Sue **


	14. Kingdom

**I can't thank Bigblueboat enough for all the work she does for me. She really is the best! Go and check out her own (unofficial) twi 25 challenge and leave her some love!**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 16. Kingdom**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: T**

**Word count: 496**

.

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><p>She'd been declared the most favorite toy of the student body long before I got there.<p>

I don't know if I ever even talked to her, but I do know all the things they accused her of were complete bullshit. Spinning lies and rumors like yarn, always trying to one up each other as if it were a contest.

And it really was just a game to play for them to make the dreary days pass faster; the prize the threadbare appreciation dished out from the wannabe high school royalty.

It was completely preposterous that the timid girl with the slumped shoulders would double as an after-school crack junkie, assaulted and stole from the innocent townspeople for her next fix, and successfully seduced all of the male population for cash. In my memory, she'd always been rather bland and unimpressive.

The involuntary jester for the fickle egos of the self-declared kings and queens, reigning over stuffy hallways and a concrete parking lot. A real life punching bag.

I don't know where the stories echoing in hushed whispers from behind lockers started, seeing as most of them had been as fabricated and exaggerated as what was said about the girl herself. I'd like to think that she'd been spared physical attacks, but I'm probably wrong. I can see some of these malicious monsters having stooped low enough to make her trip and fall or worse.

And she had taken it all without a sound. Not once fighting back.

I don't know why no one ever stood up for her. Though, I guess, they feared ending up on her side of the divide. Turning a blind eye was just easier, more comfortable, than mustering the strength to intervene. The teachers seemed to think so, too. As for her family, I only recall her having a grandmother somewhere on the outskirts of the hellhole.

I don't remember the exact date it happened, but it must have been about a year after we'd moved. It had been lunchtime; she was sitting alone at her usual table. A bunch of kids approached her table, a regular occurrence. They'd never let her be, towering over her like trees over a sprout. She continued to pick at her food, never once looking up or reacting in any way. She never had.

I tried to ignore their regular show, like usual, but right when I meant to refocus on my own task, one of the guys had leaned down and whispered something in her ear. It had been the look on his face, so filled with unjustified smugness, that made me stop.

I don't know what was said, but her usually stoic facade crumbled and was replaced by a look of sheer agony. For the briefest moment, she had looked into the shit's face before making a dash out of the cafeteria, face ashen.

It was the first time I'd ever witnessed her crying.

It was the last time I'd seen her at all.

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading! :) <strong>

**-Sue **


	15. Limit

**All the hugs and popcorn for Bigblueboat for being the bestest! :) **

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 17. Limit**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word count: 391**

**.**

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><p>My hands are shaking, aching.<p>

My whole body is, actually. All over.

The little bit of sunlight that sneaks past the curtains is still too bright for my sore eyes. The tiny sips of pulp that sometimes manage to make it down my throat leave me queasy, and I'm forced to throw it all up again. This violent feeling of asphyxiation has always scared and disturbed me, and it's all the worse now.

I used to be so healthy, always working out and eating well. Now, I'm withering away by the second, losing myself and all control with every painful breath I take.

I'm young, but this vessel I'm trapped in is all used up. Chewing, talking, walking— activities once as mundane as the cup of coffee in the morning— are all long-lost companions I never appreciated enough. Nowadays, I'm either awake or asleep; tormented by pain or all drugged up. Though the latter seems to lose it's effectiveness the more they pump it through my veins.

I'm tired. Always. All drained up and powerless.

So helpless in my decay.

Not for much longer, though. The doctors say a few more days. I've settled for a few more hours.

Most people don't get to choose when they leave, but after I've been stripped of any and all choices, I dare and demand to make this one. It's all I have left. I've fought and held on for as long as I can. I can't take being trapped in this comfortless existence any longer.

I've only made it through these last few weeks because of my family, but we are good now. They said all they needed to say and for me to hear, and I listened.

My gaze falls on the stack of envelopes on the dresser at the end of the room. My mother had to hold my hand as I wrote them, so that the writing was at least somewhat legible.

Taking the deepest breath I've dared to in a long time, my lungs feel like they'd explode right away. I let my eyes wander over every member of my family, trying hard to force the corners of my mouth upward. When I reach the all too familiar faces of my parents, the moisture spills from my eyes. I hadn't felt it pooling there.

Then, I nod.

It's time.

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading, you guys!<strong>

**-Sue xo**


	16. Complications

**Squishy-hugs, like always, go out to Bigblueboat for being so patient and simply the bestest! :) **

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 04. Complications**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word count: 2014**

**.**

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><p><em>Where are you? <em>

_Almost there. Had to fix something for Mom. Sorry._

_It's fine. I'm just going a bit mad here. _

_I really planned to be super punctual this time... _

_I know. I just really, really need this evening to work out. _

_Babe, it's gonna be fine. Is he there, yet? _

_How can you be so sure after last time's disaster? Yeah, he just got here. _

_I really screwed that one up. But trust me, after tonight, Chief Swan will love me more than you! _

_Not sure I'd be okay with that. And what does that even mean? Edward, what did you do?_

_It's a surprise. See ya in five. _

.

Taking a deep breath and pushing it back out through puffed cheeks, I put my cell back into my purse. One last check at the dressed table and then yet another one into the oven to find that everything is set as it's supposed to be. I'm tempted to down the bottle of wine I opened for the sauce all by myself and in one go.

"That boy not here yet, huh?"

"We just talked. He got held up, but will get here in a minute."

"Sure. Didn't hear you guys talking though."

"That's because we texted, dad."

"Texting while driving. Now that sounds pretty safe."

Fuck!

"...do you know how many car accidents are caused by drivers more attentive of their uPhones than the street?"

"Dad, I promise you that Edward is a really responsible and careful driver. He only wanted to let me know what's kept him. And it's called iPhone."

"Same difference. All I'm saying is it's irresponsible and he shouldn't have done it. Now that Newton boy, that's a responsible— "

"Boy to the bone. Yeah, I know. Except for the time he set his bedroom on fire after falling asleep with that cigarette lit up. Or was it a joint? And what about that time he and his buddies drove Mr Newton's truck right into the beach? Drunk, I might add."

Grunting, and completely ignoring my comeback, my dad grabs a Rainier from my fridge and takes a seat at the table.

"Dad, for the last time, I'm not interested in any Newton, Crowley, Black or Parker offspring. If you like them so much, you date them. Actually, it would be kinda cool being the first kid around the block with two dads. I'm sure the good old ladies of Forks will be a bit disappointed seeing you off the market at first, but they will get used to it." He snorts and coughs on the beer he took a sip of, but I don't really feel bad for him.

Collecting himself and dabbing stray drops from his shirt and the thick hairs above his upper lip, he scowls at me. "Isabella—"

I meet his stare with one of my own. Good thing I learned from the best since he shuts up real quick. "Edward Cullen is my boyfriend. Period. I love him. He loves me, and in a couple of months, we will be moving in together. You don't have to like him, but I wish you would at least try to."

"Now, kiddo, I never said I don't like him—"

"Yes, you did! Verbatim, actually, when he excused himself to the bathroom. And you made fun of him, right to his face."

"Nonsense, I—"

"You basically called him a pussy for not eating meat—"

"What real man doesn't eat meat?"

"If you would have let him finish the story instead of interrupting him so rudely with stories of how manly and bravely Jake can gut little fishies, you would have heard him explain that he does eat meat. And that he's a temporary vegetarian due to a bet he made with his brother to see who would cave first! That's all. Is gambling manly enough for you?"

"That was all in good fun. Can't your old man make any jokes, anymore?

"Hilarious! What about the comment about his pants? Was that you being a hoot, too?"

"Now those pants were awfully tight and—"

"DAD!"

"What? They were."

"It's called style or personal preference. Not every guy can pull off the grandpa-cut jeans as well as you do, Charlie." Turning back to the oven to finally switch it off, I add, "And they weren't that tight."

"I do not wear grandpa pants!" He protests with such vehemence you'd think I accused him of having committed the worst of all crimes.

Aggravating my dad probably wasn't the best of moves when I want him to play nice. If I want this dinner to not become a repeat performance of their first meeting, I better make amends before Edward gets here. Time to bring out the big guns.

Stepping up to his chair, I put one arm around Charlie's shoulders and kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry for insulting your fashion sense, Dad. Guess my nerves got the best of me. I know I said you don't have to like Edward, but honestly, I wish you would. You're both so important to me— the most important men in my life— and it'd mean so much to me if you got along."

Squeezing me to him, he grunts in acknowledgement, but remains otherwise silent. Taking that as a good sign, I proceed to get things off my chest. "Edward really wanted to make a good impression on you, even asked me whether he should wear a suit to the dinner. You're the best dad and I love you very much, and he knows that. But you have to know that Edward really is the best guy— for me and overall. Just give him a chance and get to know him, Dad. Please."

Grumbling and muttering nonsense I can't quite make out in between taking more gulps of beer, he takes his time emptying the can. Finally, he puts it back on the table and turns his head to meet my eyes: "Bells, you're my only daughter, and I only want the best for you. I admit that I had my doubts about that kid— still have—but I trust the choices you and that heart of yours make. Maybe I was a bit unfairer to that boy than to the other yahoos you asked me to meet, but only because I can tell from the way you talk about him, that it's more than puppy love. Sometimes, I forget that you are all grown up now."

It's not often that my dad gets so sentimental, but when he does, he goes all out. I press another kiss on his cheek.

"I still don't think that boy is good enough for you— no one is— or that I will welcome him with open arms from now on, but I promise you to try harder. Just, answer me two questions, alright?"

"Shoot."

"Are you really sure about him? Pretty sure I know the answer, but I have to ask."

"Yes, dad, I am. Completely."

"Thought so. Now tell me, what the heck is wrong with that boy's hair. I mean—"

"Dad!"

"All right, all right. I'm done."

"Good." As if on cue, there's knocking on the front door. "Just remember and stick to everything you said right now. Even if he starts rambling again, be good."

He draws an imaginary halo above his head using his left pointer finger, before getting off the chair and heading to the fridge. Resisting the urge to pull my hair in frustration and nervousness, I make my way toward the door.

It's not that I don't trust my dad's word, more that I know that deep down, he gets some kind of sick satisfaction out of tormenting the guys I ever showed any interest in, taking full advantage of his badge and intimidating built. It takes time to figure out that there's a big old softie hiding beneath the height and muscle.

Now, if only I could convince Edward of that being the truth. Somehow, he's gotten it into his head that he needs Charlie's approval in order for us to move in together. Sure, sharing a bed is no problem at all, but sharing an apartment is where he draws the line. And seeing as he owns the same stubborn streak Charlie and I do, I just know he won't let this go until he earned that pat on the shoulder from good old Chief Swan.

Dumbass.

Pulling the door open, who— what I find standing on the threshold is not what I expected. I mean, it's my boyfriend, but it's not?

There, in all his height and glory, Mariner's cap on top of his head and two fresh six packs of Vitamin R in his hands, stands Edward. I can tell that the cap is new because it's too crisp and stiff to have been worn before. Equally as new is the disappearance of the stubble that usually shadow his cheeks and chin; he's clean shaven— except for that row of dark blond hair between his upper lip and nose.

He greets me with a quick but scratchy peck. "Surprise!"

"What the fuck did you do?" I hiss at him, trying my hardest to marvel at his bright and endearing smile that usually always gets me and not let his newly-grown absurdity irritate me. It's not really working.

He sighs, but it's free of disappointment. "Look, I know it's weird and I feel like an ass, but if that's what I gotta do to make your dad accept me, I will. I'm just really fucking glad Em decided to leave last night instead of this morning. He'd have had a field day."

"Edward, seriously, what the fuck is this?" As if the moustache wasn't bad enough, he also decided to dress the act. Flannel shirt tucked into a pair of grandpa-style jeans; typical casual Charlie attire. Hell knows where he found that stuff.

"This is my convince-Chief-Swan-that-I'm-good-enough-for-his-daughter get up."

"You can't really think playing copycat will do the trick! Seriously, that's the dumbest thing I— "

But before I can finish my sentence and talk him into turning around and change clothes while I sidetrack my father, I can feel the person in question coming up behind me.

"Bells, I'm pretty sure the food's done now. Edward, looking good, son."

"Good evening, Chief Swan. You ready for the game?"

"I was born ready. Come on in."

Flabbergasted and cringing hard, I let Edward walk past me and inside the house. It's after he hands the beer over to my dad, that he turns back to me, winking and whispering. "See, it's working already."

.

It happens halfway through dinner— somewhere after I refilled my wine glass for the third time— that I'm talking about an essay that's due the upcoming week, when my dad and his wannabe copycat simultaneously grab for their beer and both take a long drink. It's as if the absurdity of the whole situation finally catches up on me; the hilarity and sheer ridiculousness settle in only to bubble right back up my throat. I burst out laughing. Loud and unexpected, it hits the room like a bullet, catching my favorite men completely off guard.

Again and again I try to collect myself and catch my breath, but having them looking at me, sitting there like two peas in a pod, or brothers from a different mother, only fuels the fire. And then, as my eyes begin to water and I'm gasping for air, their boisterous guffaws ring out and mingle with my own.

Later, as I'm storing away leftovers in the fridge, I'm still grinning from ear to ear thinking about the two of them sitting in front of the tv and watching the game. Once that is done, I retrieve my phone from out of my purse and type away.

_How are things going in there, Chief Cullen?_

It only takes him a few seconds to respond.

_All good. He just patted me on the shoulder and said I was 'all right'. That's a win in my book. Hate to say I told you so but.._.

* * *

><p><strong>Something extra-long and silly. <strong>

**Thanks go out to Rob for the stasche-inspiration :) **

**And to you guys, for reading! **

**-Sue **


	17. Forbidden

**Squishy-hugs go out to Bigblueboat and DaCherry for being the bestest, ever! :) Go check out their stories! **

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 11. Forbidden**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word count: 492**

**.**

* * *

><p>I put a cigarette between my lips and continue to stare out of the window, waiting for her to start the show.<p>

"I should probably go."

There it is.

"If you think so."

Her drawn-out sigh is followed by the sound of rustling sheets and bare feet padding over hardwood.

"It's late, I still have tests to correct and dinner to prepare. It's for the best if I leave now."

"Sure. God forbid dinner's not ready and on the table for once." Pressing down on the lighter, I let the flame flicker minutely before killing it again.

"Oh. So we're back to this, huh? For someone as opposed to routines, you sure like to stick with them. I'm tired of your bullshit."

"It's not bullshit and you know it."

I listen as she pulls the zipper on her skirt back up. The noise her shoes make as she moves around the room seems louder than ever before.

Staring at her faint reflection in the glass, I watch her pull her long hair up, twisting the strands around until they sit high on her head in a bun. Her hair had been down when she came over earlier, her arms free of elastics. She must have found one of the stray ones I keep for her on the dresser along with bobby pins and other small stuff she'd left behind at one point or the other.

"You can always stay. If you want."

Her movements falter, hands still up and in her hair. Her back is to me; miles apart in a sticky, dimly-lit room.

"You don't want me to stay. Not really. You say you do, but you don't."

"You know perfectly well what I want. I've told you time and time again… It's you that refuses to listen, so don't twist shit around now, _darling_."

"Don't you dare!"

"What? Hitting a bit too close to home for your liking?" My chuckling is involuntary and humorless. Empty and cruel, like us in this very moment.

"You know what, fuck you! After everything I did and continue to do like the fool I am… You don't get to do this. Not when I'm the only one putting everything at risk here, betraying all I ever believed in, just to have this thrown at me. It's tearing me apart, every day a little more, and you don't even care."

"I do care. More than I should. You just refuse to believe me. You're too busy wallowing in your conscience to open your fucking eyes and ears."

"You care about the sex and the thrill of it all, nothing more."

"I fucking love you!"

"That's the thing though, you say that you love me, but I don't think you do. You wouldn't stand by and let me go back to him over and over again if you did."

And then she walks away, out of my apartment and into her car.

Back to her husband.

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading! <strong>

**-Sue xx**


	18. Serendipity

**Bigblueboat is the bestest because she makes everything better! Go check out her Twi 25 collection!**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 20. Serendipity**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: T**

**Word count: 1125**

**.**

* * *

><p><em>My love, <em>

_You reading these lines means that your brother managed to tear his eyes off of Rosalie long enough to do the job I asked him to and brought you my letter. Bless him. _

_After hours of primping, I was granted a little breather before I finally step into my dress. Your own letter to me currently resides on my lap. Imagine my surprise when your father stepped in here and handed it to me, catching me off guard. I should have known something was up when you agreed so willingly to save the sappiness until after the ceremony. You're too much a romantic and as stubborn as a mule to have let this go. _

_I haven't dared to open and read it yet. Lovely Alice and her stylist friend have put so much effort into making me look all proper and pretty, I'm scared of what they'd do if they found their hard work ruined by my silly tears yet again. It's a good thing you haven't seen me yet, for all I did since waking up this morning is crying. Really, I'm a mushy, emotional mess; giddy with anticipation but suffering from leaking tear ducts. _

_I picture you standing in your own room right now, dressed in a tux and looking as handsome and dashing as ever, my letter in your hands. There's a smug smile playing on your lips because you know that means you've already won our little bet. You're going to deny it, no doubt, but I swear I can feel it all the way over here, tickling my skin and making me laugh. _

_Dammit! I've meant for these lines to be all heartfelt and meaningful to get you back good, but now I'm rambling. It's a bit like our first meeting all over again, don't you think? You were so suave and confident while I was a babbling mess. _

_Can you really blame me, though? First, Rose set me up on some blind date, and then the guy I was supposed to meet didn't show up! I must have been quite the sight sitting there all dressed up for a fancy dinner because I foolishly mistook the little cafè for a chic restaurant. To this very day, I'm left wondering what it was that made you decide that approaching my pouting self would be a good idea. Those first twenty minutes were just awful; I was so flustered and frustrated, more ranting to myself than contributing to a proper conversation. You could have run for the hills right away, but instead, you ordered hot chocolates for the both of us and listened intently. Why didn't you just run? _

_I think it was somewhere between bringing the mug to my lips and taking the first sip that I finally paid you the attention you deserved. Claiming that your handsome face wasn't the first thing I noticed about you would be a lie, but it was your charm and the way you talked that pulled me in. You were so open and sweet, treating me like an old friend and not some stranger you pitied and tried to cheer up. I really liked that. A lot. _

_And then, we must have sat there for well over an hour, this guy walked in, looking around as if he was searching for something — or someone. I wasn't completely sure he was the one I was meant to meet, but I caught him looking my way at least three times, so he might have been. When I told you about my suspicion, you took your time checking him out. The disappointment I felt right then hit me unexpected and hard. I was sure you would step away from the table and out of my life. Instead, you reached across the table for my hand and wrapped your fingers around mine. We remained that way even long after that guy was gone, neither willing to let go and break the bond. _

_That must have been your stubbornness rubbing off on me because now we're here. _

_Do you remember the night you asked me whether I regretted not having had the chance to officially meet the guy Rose had had dubbed 'perfect' for me? We had only dated for a few months back then. I answered that I didn't, and that was the honest truth. What I didn't dare confessing at point, however, was that I felt that I had, indeed, already met him. _

_You. _

_It seems silly now, of course, but back then I was too scared to admit it out loud. You see, my darling, my heart was on the line. I feared that by wanting too much too soon — by saying those three words — I'd drive you away. That was me in my own head, though. I simply wasn't used to falling so hard and with such intensity or caring so deeply about someone. In a way, we felt too rushed to be real, too good to be true. _

_I was working up to it, though, you know. Every day for about a month I told myself, "This will be the day I tell Edward I love him." But then you beat me to it. I knew something was up when you took me to your parents' cabin for the weekend, but your declaration still caught me off guard. _

_You seem to really like doing that, don't you? Taking me by surprise and one-upping me, I mean._

_There you go with that smile again. _

_Jerk. _

_But despite being annoying and an overall pain, you are still the love of my life. Sometimes, it's hard to believe it's only been three years. You've captured my heart so fully, taken up a big chunk of it and declared it your own. It feels like you've been in there ever since it started beating. My heart, it's yours; it belongs to you like yours belongs to me. _

_It seems like writing this has taken longer than I intended because your sister is currently threatening me with physical harm if I don't wrap it up and let her help me put on my dress. _

_I just want you to know that I'll never stop being grateful to that guy for showing up late. Even if it all was the most fortunate coincidence, he still brought you into my life, and it's the best gift I've ever received. _

_You are everything to me. _

_My best friend. _

_My biggest crush. _

_My soul mate. _

_I love you so much._

_To have and to hold. _

_Always. _

_Bella_

_._

"Son, it's time to go."

I don't even try to wipe the smile from my face as I refold the sheets and put the little square into my breast pocket.

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><p><strong>Hope you liked this one. <strong>

**Thanks so much for reading, you guys! **

**-Sue xx **


	19. Shattered

**Bigblueboat is still the bestest! :) **

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 21. Shattered**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: T**

**Word count: 100**

**.**

* * *

><p>Two whirlwinds with messy hair rush past me, one after the other.<p>

"Boys, no running inside the house," I chastise the same old, grabbing the marinated steaks from the fridge.

My words are ignored, of course, falling on the deaf ears of my ten and seven year-olds.

Sizzling erupts as the meat meets the hot pan.

The yelling from the living room increases in volume. Blame is thrown back and forth like a tennis ball in a match.

"Emmett, Edward! That's enough!"

A beat of silence followed by a bang and the unmistakable sound of something valuable shattering into pieces.

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><p><strong>A little quickie to go :) <strong>

**Thanks for reading! **

**-Sue xx **


	20. Tryst

**I love Bigblueboat for her patience and just for being the best. That is all. **

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 23. Tryst**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word count: 449**

**.**

* * *

><p>Her long hair spills over the ivory sheets as she lays on the bed, naked and needy. The ripped scraps of sheer black fabric that used to be her panties fall from his hands onto the floor. He stands at the edge of the bed before her; bending forward, his eyes and fingertips travel over her skin, taking in the glorious sight her bare form offers. The dark denim hangs loosely from his hips. His chest is bare; the muscles in his arms and chest strain as he moves to lean forward, propping his hands on the mattress next to her shoulders. He licks his own lips once before bringing his mouth to the spot right above her navel and trails his tongue up along her torso and chest. The teasing intensifies once he reaches her tits, nibbling and nipping along the flesh and sucking on her nipples hard, alternating between the plump mounds.<p>

She responds instantly, grabbing his blond curls by the handful and pulling him the rest of the way up her body. It's messy and passion filled, the way their lips and tongues meet and entwine. Their bodies grind against another while they kiss for the longest time. Heavy breathing and quiet sighs fill the air.

It's him that pulls back first. Taking his time, he crawls back down her body until he kneels on the floor. In one swift move he pulls her closer by her hips and, spreading her smooth legs open wide, dives for her core.

Though her upper thigh obscures most of his face from my sight, he's obviously doing the job right. He doubles her torture with the help of his fingers, and she screams, writhing closer and closer toward the edge.

Being with my girl — feeling, tasting and fucking her in all the ways she lets me have her — is always thrilling, and watching her with someone else only adds to the kick. It's not just me though. She loves this just as much, probably more so, seeing the position she is in tonight. Whether it's strictly watching from the sidelines or getting to play, we both find it equally arousing and hot as hell.

Our little plaything-du-jour seems to think so, too.

Screaming in ecstasy, with her eyes on me, she reaches her high then. My own groan slips past my lips, and I know I can't hold back any further. Pumping my hard dick once more, I retrieve my hand from my shorts to finally get rid of them.

I've restrained myself longer than I said I would, but I just can't stand by and let them have all the fun alone anymore.

Not tonight.

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><p><strong>Okay, so I really suck at writing anything remotely lemon-y. There's a reason why I don't do this very often: it's painful and awkward for everybody involved...like pulling teeth. <strong>

**Lol**

**Anyway, five more to go!**

**Thanks so much for reading! :) **

**-Sue xx **


	21. Innocence

**As always, I have to thank Bigblueboat. She even makes time to look over my nonsense, while basically on her way out. Go check out her stories and leave her some words! **

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 14. Innocence**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: T**

**Word count: 100**

**.**

* * *

><p>I was just strolling down the beach, paying attention to everything and nothing.<p>

A bird's cry caused my gaze to flicker across the thick wall of lush trees and skyward, following its flight path into the far distance straight ahead.

She appeared on the cliffs within the blink of an eye.

I couldn't make out her face, but her dress was the color of innocence.

Spreading her arms, she walked up to the very edge.

Another blink. She was gone.

I thought it was an illusion but learned later the girl had been real. Three hundred and fifty years ago.

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading, you guys! <strong>

**-Sue xx **


	22. Treasure

**Bigblueboat is like good choc - she fixes everything! :) **

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 22. Treasure**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: T**

**Word count: 481**

**.**

* * *

><p>The violent sound of rain pelting against the window pane drags me from sleep, one thrumming drop at a time. Lazily, my eyes blink open. I'm greeted by the grayish-blue hue of the early morning hours. The window, blurry from the streams of water running down the glass, reveals the sky dressed in a heavy blanket of ashen clouds.<p>

The cold November night must have chilled the air in the bedroom down some. I can feel the tickling in my nose as I take a deep breath. The fine hairs on my bare arms and jaw prickle and erupt; a slight shiver washes over me. Stretching once from fingertips to toes, I burrow back under the thick blanket, welcoming the cozy warmth that envelopes me.

A soft groan and the dull sound of a searching hand patting over a mattress interfere with my quest to find my way back into slumberland. I don't even try to fight the smile that forms on my lips. Slowly, carefully, I move over and onto my other side, facing my sweet man instead of the window front. Resting his head on his bent arm instead of the pillow, he's lost deep in sleep.

His hair is a wild, askew mess; his pouting pink lips open just the tiniest bit. He looks utterly adorable. Even with the daylight being sparse, I can tell there's a little crease there between his eyebrows and bags under his eyes. He's so lost in his work, spending whole days and nights in front of his laptop, typing away without much of a break. There have been times where I'd find him already sitting in his office before I leave for work in the morning, only to find him sitting in the same spot late at night when I get ready for bed. Trying to tell a writer to take it easy and have a breather once inspiration hit is moot, though. I do admire Edward for his passion, but I can't help worry for him sometimes.

Seeing that three major holidays are right around the corner and with me being co-owner of a bakery, the next few weeks will be even bleaker.

While neither of us is very fond of that idea, it's all just temporary, too. The holidays will pass, Edward will finish his current book, and there'll be enough time to make up for what we missed. In the meantime, we'll continue to cherish the moments we have.

Cupping his stubbly jaw in my hand, I lean in closer to place a soft kiss on his lips. Letting my fingers wander over from the dip of his neck down to his wrist, I move until there's no inch left between us and pull his arm around me. He hums and hugs me tight as I snuggle into him. Sneaking my hand under his shirt, I close my eyes.

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><p>Thanks so much for reading, you guys!<p>

-Sue xx


	23. Disheveled

**I've sold my soul to Bigblueboat and her beta-skills. Stuff friendships are made off! :) **

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 08. Disheveled**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: T**

**Word count: 500**

**.**

* * *

><p>When I agreed to spend the last few weeks of summer with my mom and her new family, it was with the promise that I'd enjoy myself. Getting to know the latest addition to my family better being a pleasant side effect.<p>

My mom married Phil three years ago. It was at the wedding that I met him and his two sons for the first time. I liked them well enough given that I had just met them, and I was happy for my mom. Renee and I were never super close; she left my dad and me when I was just a kid, yet she made sure we had a relationship. However, with her expanded family and me starting college, we drifted apart.

So when she asked me to come to spend some time with them, I jumped at the opportunity. I even agreed to babysit my step-siblings for a few days, while Renee and Phil celebrated their anniversary in some fancy retreat.

What I didn't take into account was that the adorable, cherub-faced three-year-olds I met back then would grow into obnoxious little brats. After a mere ten days in Florida —two of which I've spent alone with the demonic twosome —I've had enough.

"Bella has a big butt! Bella has a big butt!"

Kneeling in spilled rivers of milk and the occasional globs of mashed potato, I try my best to ignore their chanting and clean up the mess that was lunch. I'd probably be more forgiving if they hadn't thrown their food on the ground on purpose.

I like kids, I really do, but these two are trying my patience.

With their little one line song increasing in volume and my desperate need for strong cup of coffee —or vodka shot —I decide I've had enough. Crawling out from under the table, I tell them they're free to play in the backyard. They are gone in a heartbeat. I make quick work of washing everything and cleaning the kitchen. Once that's done and with fresh coffee brewing, I head for the downstairs bathroom to freshen up myself.

After washing my face free of smeared potato, I head for the yard to check on the boys. Stepping outside, I find them sitting by the fence that separates this property from the neighboring one. There's a guy around my my age chatting them up from the other side, but the two rascals are more focused on the English Bulldog at his feet. He spots me as I approach and introduces himself as Edward Cullen. I remember my mother having mentioned the Cullens before, but I can't recall much of what she said about her neighbors.

It turns out he's here on a visit himself, housesitting while his parents are on a cruise. He's very nice and charming; awfully handsome, too.

I invite him over for coffee, and while the suddenly-saintly twins excitedly play with his dog, we continue our little chat.

My summer suddenly looks much more promising.

* * *

><p><strong>This prompt was a big pain in my butt! When I first saw it on the list, I had so many ideas on it, but they all vanished one after the other and by the time I meant to tackle this one *poof* all gone! <strong>

**Getting this one out made a visit at the dentist appear pleasant! lol**

**Oh well. Just glad it's done! **

**Two more to go!**

**-Sue xx **


	24. Crush

**Huge thanks to Bigblueboat for cleaning up after my messy self! Go read her (unofficial) take on this years TT25 round! **

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 06. Crush**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: T**

**Word count: 473**

**.**

* * *

><p>The strobe light flickers as heavy beats drum from speakers. People are mingling, drinking, grinding, shaking off the week and chasing all kinds of highs.<p>

My gaze never wavers as I bring the bottle to my lips and drink. It's weird how a few lines of words — a little snippet of gossip — can put a different meaning to everything you thought you knew for sure. Despite there being a chance that what Emmett let slip isn't completely true, the seed has been planted, and now I can't take my eyes off of her.

It's like, my brain keeps on analyzing every smile, every word, every gesture — small and little, past and present — searching for the hint of something more behind them. Could it really be that she feels more for me than she's let on? If so, then she really hid it well in the year that we've known each other. I mean, yeah, we banter and joke around. Sometimes, things do get a bit flirty, but never more so or any different than she does with Jasper or Emmett. At least, not that I noticed.

Maybe, therein lays the problem, though.

So, I've been watching her all night and things seem… off. Like, the way she moves and how she dances appears more appealing and sensual than it used to just last week, her words more teasing, her little touches more affectionate. And though I never thought her to be unattractive, she's never looked more alluring or beautiful to me than she does tonight.

And I've never felt quite as easily bothered by the way random guys keep on gawking at her. The group of Emmett's co-workers that just joined our table in particular have me grinding my teeth with the shit they're saying, with their eyes glued to her ass as she waits at the bar to get her drinks. There's no way in hell all of us will be able to sit comfortably, what with our latest additions and all, and yet those idiots scurry around on their bench, making space in hopes she'd sit with them as she turns and approaches the table, carrying beer bottles in her clasped hands. She nods at them in passing but stops at my end of the table, handing out beer to our friends and me, keeping one for herself.

I see her checking for a free seat or lack of choice thereof, hesitating to take the four drunks on the opposite bench up on their offer. I simply act, pulling her onto my lap like I've done many times before. She comes willingly, smiling bright, putting her free arm around my shoulders and leaning into my chest. Her body feels good so close to me, all soft and amazing.

How could I have missed all this before?

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading! <strong>

**One more to go! EEEEP! **

**-Sue xx**


	25. Worthless

**One last time, squishy hugs for Bigblueboat. She's the bestest at working-through and cleaning up my mess, and she gives a mean kick in the butt when needed! Go check out her take on the challenge! **

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**the twilight25 dot com**

**.**

**Prompt: 25. Worthless**

**Main character: Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word count: 498**

**.**

* * *

><p>The glass filled with amber liquid feels heavier in my hand than usual. Maybe it's because I went for a triple this time or because it's the third one of the day; maybe it's just my old friend putting extra effort into making his presence known, weighing me down.<p>

The dimmed room is quiet except for the steady ticking of the clock. Seconds, minutes, hours slip by; weeks, months and years will follow. It's always been like that. I'm not saying I don't care, but I know from experience that trying to chase _time_, trying to grasp and hold onto it to slow its pace, doesn't change anything. It just slips through my fingers, much like everything else in my life.

Tick tick tock.

If there's one thing I learned early on in life, it's that I'm not good at anything. Try as I might, I just can't seem to do things right, regardless of what it is. I never did. My teens were a massive string of fucked up and ended with me only barely graduating high school. I dropped out of college after two years because I failed to find anything that spiked my curiosity and managed to hold my interest for longer than a week, which obviously showed in my grades.

My parents were disappointed of course, but we eventually settled for a compromise, turning my quitting into a temporary break. I spent that year wasting a good chunk of my trust fund on traveling the world and partying with strangers, buying their attention. In my memory, that year only lasted a blink of an eye, too short to make memories worth retelling. Maybe it's because I didn't have anyone to share the experiences.

I never went back to school, but bided my time with one shitty job after the next. My parents were enraged; but despite what they thought and still think, it wasn't out of spite or as a form of rebellion. Unlike them and my siblings, I didn't know who I was and what I wanted to be the second I got rid of my diapers. I still don't. In a family of overachievers, that fact just confirms my role as the black sheep, the slacker.

Though I carry the scars of all my mistakes and failures with me— always— they're shoved in my face by my family at any given chance. But my lack of being able to connect with them is perceived as disinterest and aloofness. That I tend to push those few left away is as much a punishment for them as myself. Friends, the girls I try to date, my own blood— hardly anyone seems to mind much anymore.

My brother, at least, doesn't. Though we never had a big fallout or anything, this last gesture, or lack thereof, speaks louder than anything he's ever said to my face.

Pretending to be somewhere else, I raise my glass to the empty room and toast to the happy couple.

* * *

><p><strong>Aaaaaand...IT'S DONE! ;D<strong>

**.**

**You guys, thanks so much for sticking with me, for reading and reviewing! The feedback has been amazing, and I really loved hearing your thoughts!**

**The challenge was fun, but I'm really glad it's over now and I made it on time! Whooop! :) **

**Hope you guys enjoyed this last one. **

**Again, thank you for reading! 3**

**-Sue xx**


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